


Flung out of Space

by Trainwreckweather



Category: Carol (2015), The Fall (TV 2013), The Price of Salt - Patricia Highsmith, The X-Files
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - 1950s, Angst, F/F, Original Character(s), Out of Character, Romance, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-06
Updated: 2019-02-19
Packaged: 2019-10-23 10:12:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17681480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trainwreckweather/pseuds/Trainwreckweather
Summary: Dana Scully is a young and aspiring doctor in Manhattan. For now, she must deal with the rat race of life and her own pessimistic views. Stuck in an unfulfilling relationship with her mentor, she aims to gain control of her inner despondence and put on a brave face. She has everything going for her, so there is no need for her unhappiness, right?Stella Gibson, a middle aged mother in the midst of divorce swoops in and changes everything.I'm bad at summaries, please read my trash baby.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first (posted) fic. I only have a vague idea where I'm going with it but I aim to post weekly.  
> Sorry for any mistakes. Any and all feedback is so appreciated.
> 
> Obviously I don't own The Fall, Carol/The price of Salt/ or The X-files.
> 
> I don't think it's necessary to have seen/read all three but it sure would be cool if you did.

 

Did people actually enjoy this? No, really, did people wake up chipper and ready to go? Ready to take on life? Did they jump straight out of their warm beds, into the frigid air of their poorly insulated apartments, and have the gall to smile?

Maybe she was depressed. Maybe they all were.

This job has made her bitter. Horribly so. Every face of every other middle aged woman she worked alongside was withered. Every expression pinched. Ugly. They were ugly to her. No, she’d never say it out loud. But she thought. Oh, the constant, horrid thoughts she thought.

And how long would it be until she was just like them? Screwed up and repressed and downright hopeless. How long until she too gave up her dreams to be just another worker bee, replaced once she was used up beyond any recognition? Before she knew it, she would be old and ugly and stripped of any individuality entirely.

These thoughts scared her, sometimes to the point where she was cold all over and positively sick with it. It would rush over her suddenly, as if she’d fallen into the middle of the Hudson mid December and was dragged viciously under by the unforgiving current. Never to be seen or heard from again.

She never even has time to scream at the horror of it.

Surely everyone didn’t feel this way lining up every morning at the employees entrance of Bloomingdale’s. If they did, they hid it well during business hours. Plastered smiles over perky attitudes and “yes ma'am this _is_ the doll that wets herself! Yes this dress _does_ come in blue! Thank you for shopping with us, and a _very_ Merry Christmas to you!”.

Sometimes she thought she saw cracks in the plaster. Resigned looks of _is this really my life?_ behind cigarette smoke in the break room. After work, she thought she could see it in the hunched backs and despairing limps of those forced to stand for hours on end and pretend this life was the only for them. It had to be her imagination though. If they were so miserable, why do this day in and day out for years on end? Wouldn’t they leave?

She was leaving. To Dana Scully, this was just a temporary gig. After the holidays she would never be coerced into such a grim situation again. If she never saw another doll again, it would be too soon.

Though, she did appreciate the train set situated at the front of the store, away from her counter. She wished it was closer. Wished that she could watch that train chug along fixed tracks in all it’s admirable vigor. She was envious of it in the same way she related to it.

Envious, because it never knew all it’s effort was for naught. It would keep on in the same terrible circle, and it remained oblivious to it’s meaningless task.

She related because, well, wasn’t that exactly her? Wasn’t that what she was doing? She and everyone else in this godforsaken place?

She had to shake the thought from her head. Out of mind, at least for a while. If it stayed she’d have another attack.

For now, she had one task. Peel the covers, get up, and smile.

********************************************

Dr. Daniel Waterston was the key to everything.

He was going to help her. No one expected a woman doctor. She was ahead of her time and she knew it. But he saw her. Truly. He saw that she was so much more. His little prodigy, as he like to say.

“I’m going to be in the papers for taking you under my wing,” he would tell her on occasion. It sounded arrogant, but she was grateful nonetheless.

Daniel was older, smarter, and wiser than she could ever hope to be. He taught her how to act, how to present herself, when to stand up for herself and when to back down. He was going to take her to Europe, and he wanted to marry her, even though she wasn’t ready. He said he’d wait, which was quite generous of him. Others would have moved on by now.

The sex admittedly wasn’t very good. He was her first, so she figured her inexperience was to blame. Derived pleasure would come with time. The love would come too. She liked him, of course, but she didn’t love him. She refused to marry someone she didn’t love.

But oh, she begged for that day to come, because he was perfect for her, and she wished she could get her heart to concede.

Next fall, Daniel was going to pull strings at New York University, where he once studied. He was a widely respected Cardiologist; one of the best. To put it simply, he was brilliant. And so what if he was a little cocky? She owed him everything.

Picked her out and said he could make a doctor out of her, which is all she ever wanted. He even, well, he even left his wife and child for her. It wasn’t a fact Dana was proud of, but it meant something to her. It meant permanence. It meant that Daniel wanting to open his own practice alongside her wasn’t just a false promise.

She could use permanence. After being sent away and all but abandoned by her grief ridden mother to that boarding school, something solid sounded like a dream. If only her heart would cooperate with her a little. She wasn’t asking for much.

As with most days, Daniel came to her in the morning, took her on his bike to work. He spoke a lot of their future. He kept pushing and prodding for them to move in together. He told her the love would come easier if they shared the evenings and the mornings, but the thought of that made her queasy. Dana cherished her privacy. She reveled in her alone-ness. Besides, even him spending the occasional overnight made her uncomfortable.

Often, after being intimate, she wanted nothing more than a shower and alarmingly, to spend the night crying. Alone. Sex with Daniel felt inherently wrong, which she failed to comprehend. He was an attractive man. What few friends she kept as company loved to remind her at every opportunity.

For now, it remained a mystery, and hopefully it was one to resolve itself with more time. She was young. Only 19. She had time.

“Are you excited to go in March?” She pulled herself out of her thoughts. _Always_ _in your head, Dana,_ he would tease. And she would roll her eyes.

“Oh.” Going to Europe sounded wonderful in theory. Cafe’s, old architecture, rich history. It was romantic. But when he brought it up as something concrete, the feeling returned. _Wrong_ , her brain supplied. It was wrong.

She felt that she was cheating him out of something. He expected so much. He took her to work, and to movies. He brought her flowers. He included her in his research, though unofficially for now. He made declarations of love and introduced her to his parents, who could be her grandparents in relation to age. And now, with the March trip to Europe? The gesture was grand to the greatest extent. It crushed her under its extraordinary weight.

“You can still cancel the tickets, right?” She cursed her voice for sounding so small, for trembling over her nervousness and the bite of the winter chill.

“Well, yeah, of course. I just thought this would be good for us.”

“I want to go,” she lied. “I’m just not sure- what if something comes up?”

“Like what?” he challenged. They had these plans for months, and though she’d been hesitant about it from the start, she always leaned towards pleasing him. She never gave off the impression that she wasn’t going. If anything, her timid attitude when the trip came up in conversation could be attributed to nerves.

“Oh, I can’t think. It’s too cold. Can’t we discuss this later?”

“Yeah… sure.” Disappointment could clearly be detected in his tone. She hated it. Dana Scully was one to please.

*******************************

She flushed scarlet, again, under the scrutiny of her supervisor. She could list the entire periodic table off the top of her head if asked, but sales was not something that came naturally.

The noise and the constant rush was distracting. And often what the customer wanted didn’t match up with the policy.

So sure “We are out of this doll Ma’am, but the store in the basement has stock” sounds like a reasonable thing to say to a frazzled mother trying to keep track of her two children and speak at the same time, but as her boss scolded, it was the exact _wrong_ thing to advise.

“Scully, did you even read your employee manual?” She had. Twice in fact, but she wasn’t about to voice this. “The basement store sells for a lower price. Next time, put her on a waiting list for new stock, or sell her another doll, understand?”

That was much how her work days went, to varying degrees. Just a few more weeks and it would be over.

_What a shame it was, to wish your life away. To bide your time until better happens._

And oh, better was yet to come. In fact, better was just about to walk in through the door, and right into her life.

As if pulled by some outside force, Dana lifted her head, her gaze cutting straight through the crowd of last minute Christmas shoppers. And at that moment, as if she too felt the pull, the woman’s head turned from observing the display off to her right. And looked directly at her.

The woman's eyes bored straight into her, piercing her in a way she’d never experienced, yet it wasn’t unpleasant. Looking at this woman with an air of self assurance about her and a demure little smile thrown her way, she felt everything that had gone missing from her long ago. She felt life, pure life radiating from the woman with her perfect blonde curls and her knowing eyes. She couldn’t see them from a distance, but she would bet everything that they were cool like the Atlantic sea.

She felt it suddenly, pulling her under again. It was overwhelming in its intensity, and she almost gasped aloud when she realized this wasn’t like her attacks before. Where those hit her with unmerciful ice, with unbearable despair, where those aimed to rip her limb from limb until there was nothing left, this “attack” threw her into unimaginable warmth. She felt full with it. Overstuffed with everything good, everything she forgot existed. She wanted to drown in it all. The buzz around her stopped, hell, the whole world did. It was reduced to one thing now. To her.

She didn’t even have time to catch her breath.

The woman's smile grew when she realized she’d caught her full attention. And then, she started walking her way.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I hate this. 
> 
> Any mistakes are mine, and feel free to point them out, I really appreciate when people do.  
> Some dialogue is taken directly from the movie but I don't think I'll do that a lot because it's hard to keep in character that way. Carol is a lot different than Stella, I think.
> 
> Also to point out, I know next to nothing about the 1950's, so there will most likely be errors that way too.
> 
> I took Rindy's character from the movie/book and made her Charlotte, because it felt weird to keep her the same when everyone else is different.

She sets her leather gloves down on the counter. Dana noticed they matched her large fur coat, something she would have found Gaudy on anyone else. 

Not her.

Her smile was warmer up close. Dana found herself irrationally irritated at the barrier that stood between them.

The woman with the blonde hair and yes, she was right, ocean eyes, released heavy sigh before regarding her once more.

Reaching into her pocket and handing over a sheet of paper, Dana saw that there was more to her than warmth and _right_. Something underneath. It was that same weariness she’d become familiar with spotting in the people around her, herself as well. This woman was obviously wealthy, and so she wondered what could possibly be bothering someone who had no need to live the tedious lifestyle she did.

“I wonder if you might help me find this doll for my daughter.”

She was thrown off hearing that the voice inquiring held an English lilt. It was beautiful. Hypnotic almost.

“Bright Betsy. Oh, she cries. And wets herself. But I’m afraid we’re all out of stock.” The regret in her voice was sincere. She wanted to give this person whatever anything she asked.

Another sigh, and then- “Left it too long.” She shook her head. “What was your favourite doll when you were four?”

“Me?” No one ever asked her questions like that. She thought back, back to before her father passed and before she was sent away. She couldn’t remember very well. But she knew dolls had never been her favorite. “I never- not many to be honest.”

The blonde in her fur and her wine red blouse pulled out a cigarette and lighter, disgruntled.

“I’m sorry. You’re not allowed to smoke on the sales floor.”

Dana pondered, for a moment, just letting her do whatever she pleased. She manifested signs of needing the approval of others around the time her mother callously abandoned her, but she’d never felt it come on this strong, and for a stranger no less.

“Sorry, shopping makes me nervous.”

She offered up her best sympathy face. “That’s alright, working here makes me nervous.” When that got a laugh out of her, she felt on top of the world. How many others could make her laugh?

She fumbled around with her purse for amount, returning the cigarettes and producing a photo, which she offered up to Dana’s sight.

“Here she is,” and the look of utter adoration in the woman's eyes made her wish for her father. She didn’t think about him much anymore; it always made her sad. But she remembered the same look in his eyes when he held her in his arms and told her tales of the open waters and great white whales.

“She looks like you.” _Lucky girl._

“You think so?”

“I do.”

The atmosphere around the two of them relaxed then. She put the photo back, seeming less anxious than she had before.

“Her name is Charlotte.”

“That’s beautiful.”

“Yes, she’s truly remarkable. Smart, too.” There was no doubt in Dana’s mind. Anyone created by her would have to be nothing short of divine. She’d kick herself for these silly thoughts later, but right now it was just the two of them, and that’s all that mattered.

“Well,” she continued on, “What did you want when you were younger?” Again with the personal questions. If it were anyone else she might feel put off. It was none of their business what she wanted.

“A train set,” she said easily. It wasn’t the full truth. When she was a girl all she wanted was her father and his stories, but that wouldn’t help anyone. However, if she had the extra cash to spare, she thought she might buy one for herself now, just to keep her company and remind her she wasn’t alone.

The woman only reacted in mild surprise, as if she knew lots of little girls who preferred model trains over dolls. Maybe she was one herself.

“Do you know a lot about train sets?”

“Some. We just recently got a new model in. It’s hand-built with hand painted cars, it’s a limited edition,” she rattled off matter-of-factually. “It even has real lumber in some cars, but the coal is fake, obviously. It’s right over by the elevators, you might have seen it on your way in. I would show you, but I’m sort of confined to this desk.”

Her companion looked back towards the elevators momentarily. “Do you ship?”

“Special delivery, you could have it in two to three days. They’d even assemble it for you.”

“Well, that’s that then.” She said, satisfied.

There was a pause then, a beat too long to be strictly professional. Dana felt her face heat up under the pressure of her own staring, but she couldn’t get herself to look away. She was just so damn… alluring. Beautiful. Mesmerizing.

“Shall I pay now?...”

“Oh!” She huffed out a little self conscious laugh. “Yes. Of course.” She turned her attention to the sales forms set in front of her. “I need your account details and address.”

The woman took her offered pen and nodded. As she filled in the lines before her- “Where did you learn so much about trains anyway?”

“I read a lot. Too much probably.”

The woman smirked and slid the completed form back over. “No such thing,” she stated confidently.

Dana grinned and ripped off a copy for the woman to have. She had to agree with that sentiment “Thank you.”

“Thank _you_. Merry Christmas.”

“Yes, Merry Christmas,” Dana returned. She did not like watching the woman walk away. She did not like the click of her heels fading out into the background, blending with the noise.

The noise. The buzz. It was back. Their bubble popped and everything came rushing back in a devastating way. She felt angry, like a great injustice had been done to her.

She didn’t even get the woman’s name. Except- of course she did. She glanced down at the worn pad she was subconsciously clutching to her chest.

_Stella._

Stella Burns. She traced the smooth loops of ink, her writing as graceful and classic as everything else about her.

_Stella, Stella, Stella._

She blushed. She felt ridiculous, almost giddy at having the pleasure to know her name.

She tried to physically shake the whole encounter out of her head. There was nothing out of the ordinary about this Stella Burns. Sure, she was easily the most beautiful woman in the room; the most beautiful person she’d ever seen. But that didn’t make a simple business transaction special. It didn’t mean anything. She’d never see the woman again and that was fine.

_Get a grip Dana. Jesus._

Out of the corner of her eyes, she noticed the pair of gloves, left behind. But Stella was already gone.

*****************************************

It had to be gloves.

At the School her favorite nun had given her a pair of hand knitted mittens to keep warm. Everyone called her Sister Spooky because of the stories she told, but that wasn’t the point.

She never wore them, didn’t want them to lose their smell or get soiled. She told herself she was going to wear them, but they had just resided in a small box under her dormitory bed for years, only being taken out every so often to marvel at in the dark. She outgrew them by the time she had the courage to put them to good use, and they lost their comforting scent. She wasn’t sure where they were now.

It wasn’t a question of keeping them or sending them back. Of course she was going to send them back. Dana Scully had a strong set of morals and values despite her anxieties. Her mother or Daniel would say she got them from a strong Catholic upbringing, but she knew the truth. It was all her father.

All her Catholic upbringing instilled in her her was a strong sense of guilt over missing mass or skipping prayer or any of the other numerous and egregious sins out there, and there were plenty.

No, that wasn’t true. She loved her god and her faith; she didn’t mean to sound ungrateful. Her spirituality got her through the hardest times of her young life. It still kept her going today. But she wasn’t blind to the flaws of religious organization. Nowadays she preferred to worship alone.

So, returning the gloves wasn’t the issue. It wasn’t what she was agonizing over now. It was the damn card. She just couldn’t help herself. It was easy to throw the gloves in a post and send them off, she had the address after all. But she reasoned to herself, that it was only polite to send along a card, maybe a little note. It was the holiday season.

And so, she got a simple red and green card, sat at her worn desk in low lamp light, feet aching and sore from another shift, and _agonized_.

What was appropriate to write? _‘You left your gloves Mrs. Burns, thought you might want them back,’_ seemed redundant and unnecessary. Of course she left them, and of course she might enjoy having warm fingers. Yet, _‘I think you are fabulous. I think you’re absolutely marvelous’_ would most likely not be well received.

She held the pair up to her face now and inhaled deeply, an old habit with new benefits. They smelled like expensive perfume with an undertone of leather. They smelled fabulous. Absolutely marvelous. They smelled like Stella Burns.

In the end, she wrote _Happy Holidays from Bloomingdale’s_ in the neatest hand she could muster. She nodded to herself and sent it down to post box before she could change her mind again.

Stella would never know it was her who returned the missing items, and probably forgot all about her existence as soon as she left. It made her feel absurd that it had been nearly 48 hours since their brief encounter, and still Dana couldn’t get it out of her head.

Maybe now she could put it past her and focus on more pressing matters. Like Daniel and his stupid trip, and the fact that it wasn’t supposed to be taxing to spend personal time with him. It was supposed to feel like-

It was supposed to feel like being with Stella.

She laughed out loud at that, rubbing her arms for warmth and rushing across the street and back to the haven of her drafty apartment. If any of saw her they’d think she was a madwoman. She _felt_ like a madwoman.

“Ridiculous Dana,” she whispered to herself. “You’re being ridiculous.”

******************************************

The next day, Stella pulled a small parcel out of her mailbox, and reading the short note it dawned on her what it was. “Huh.” But she smiled, just barely, thinking of the young woman with short auburn locks and a nervous way about her.

“Mommy! Mommy look!”

Charlotte, all bundled up in their large front yard and full of youthful vitality, tried her best at a cartwheel, which at four much more resembled a sideways tumble. There would be mud staining her clothes later, no doubt.

“Be careful darling!” She called over, but Charlie only giggled and beamed under her mothers attention, and demonstrated again.

Her little one was tough as nails. Stella liked to think she got it from her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again for reading my little garbage monster!
> 
> My Tumblr is also Trainwreckweather so feel free to send me Stella/Scully, MSR, or X-files prompts to post here!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be on the safe side, TW for a brief (I believe one sentence) mention of dub-con, though I don't think either character sees it that way because things in the 50's were different and marital rape was legal until in U.S. until 1993. 
> 
> Any mistakes with grammar are mine and feel free to point them out to me. I know the plot is slow going but I've figured out where this is heading so hopefully things will start to pick up.

Dana was pissed. Daniel had purposely kept her out late, said that it was only going to be dinner with his family. He knew she had work today, and still he pulled her out to the bars afterwards with his grimy, pretentious doctor friends.

She hated the way he treated her around his peers. It was like she was nothing more than his property, like he owned her, her brain, and her discoveries. Like he was responsible for her hard earned intelligence. It sickened her.

His touch at her back annoyed her, and it felt less loving and more possessive the more they drank.

And she drank. A lot. It wasn’t her fault, anyone else put in her position would have too. It became her own little drinking game; take a swing anytime someone referred to her as ‘sweetheart’ or ‘precious.’ These- these fucking _assholes_ made it no secret what they thought. She was arm candy. She was entertainment. Wasn’t it so amusing that little Dana wanted to play doctor with the boys?

Well, fuck them. And fuck Daniel too for never defending her, for laughing along and throwing her into an unwanted role.

And then- and then he wanted to spend the night, claiming he was too drunk to make it home on his own when he damn well could have taken a taxi.

He wasn’t drunk enough to get it up, that was for sure, so she had to grit her teeth and silently seethe while he took what little dignity of the night there was left.

And by the time he was passed out and half on top of her (her leg was starting to go numb) it was well after two in the morning.

She wanted to scream in her ever-growing frustration. Instead, she fell into a restless sleep and woke up hungover, exhausted, and freezing, because Daniel had so graciously wrapped the entirety of _her_ duvet around himself.

It was shaping up to be a lovely day, she thought bitterly.

She gingerly held her head while downing a glass of water and an aspirin. An unjustifiable rage shot all the way down to her toes when she heard Daniel groan from the other room. She should kick him in the ribs for keeping her out like that. For treating her this way. Shaking her head, she tamped all of the deep seeded anger and tried her best to look presentable.

*****************************************

“Do you think you could look in the back for one?”

What was the difference between brown and blue eyes anyway? It was just a damn doll.

“Of course Miss.”

This was the fourth time today she had to physically bite her tongue in order to maintain a semblance of professionalism. People expected that the exact toy they wanted for their child would be readily available at the snap of a finger, just because they willed it to be.

Didn’t they know you just couldn’t will or demand things into existence? If that were the case, she wouldn’t be working in a toy store as a sales clerk, now would she? She would be the best damn doctor this city had ever seen, with her own practice and no need for Daniel _fucking_ Waterston.

Okay, so she was still feeling the effects of lasts nights impromptu “date”. Her head was still pounding, eyes were heavy, her heart felt empty and ready to implode. She needed a change, and soon.

Around one in the afternoon, exactly as she was turning to clock out for lunch, a familiar voice halted her.

“Well you look miserable.”

_Not anymore._

She turned fully, quickly, making sure this wasn’t just a post-alcohol induced hallucination. But no. There, right in front of her stood Mrs. Stella Burns, a self satisfied little smirk present on her face.

“Oh! Hello! Did you not get the train set? It should have arrived.If you’re having trouble-”

“No, no,” she waved off her concerns. “The train set arrived in perfect condition. I came for you. Dana Scully, correct?”

“Yes,” _but how did she know-_

“Your name and address was on the post you sent me. Thank you, by the way. These are my favorite gloves.” She held up her prize so Dana could see.

“It could have been someone else,” Dana argued, not knowing why she was.

“I was hoping it wasn’t.”

“You were?” Stella nodded. “Why?”

“I don’t know. I enjoyed your stellar customer service. I was in town. I thought I would thank you in person.”

Stella actually wasn’t just in town, but she thought better than to scare the young woman off with _‘I find you intriguing and I needed to see you again.’_

“Well, you’re welcome Mrs. Burns.” It was too warm in here. She knew her cheeks were once again flaming.

With another wave of a precisely manicured hand, she corrected her. “Just Stella please.”

And just like that they were on a first name basis. “Stella,” she breathed. “You’re welcome.”

That would be the end of it, Dana thought with sudden dread. What if she got this one last taste of her, and then nothing more ever again? And she didn’t know how to keep her here, didn’t have anything interesting to say-

“When do you get off,” she asked instead of walking away.

Dana nearly choked. “I’m sorry?” 

Stella looked amused at her embarrassment. “Of work. When does your shift end? I was wondering if you might join me for a meal.”

Yes! Her mind shouted, even before she had a chance to process what was being asked of her. What exactly was being asked of her? She doubted this situation was in her employee manual.

“Uh-”

“If you don’t want to go-”

“No! No, of course I’ll join you for a meal. That sounds lovely. I’m actually about to take my lunch break, though I only have an hour-”

“Perfect.” Stella was direct, but it worked for her. Dana was used to seeing it in men and it thrilled her to know there were women who took charge out there. This, Dana thought, is how she needed to be if she had any chance of making it in the medical field.

Direct. Confident. Poised. Clear. And feminine. No mistaking it the fact that she was a woman.

With more women like Stella, they could shift the world. They could change how society viewed a woman. Dana decided, she could learn a thing or two from Stella.

She grabbed her jacket and followed her lead.

***********************************************

Dana suggested a cafe only a short walk away so they would have more time together, and Stella readily agreed.

She ordered a sweet coffee with cream and double chocolate chip muffin. They were both things that Dana thought were too indulgent to have personally. She herself would usually go for a black coffee and half a chicken sandwich, but too nervous to even think in Stella’s presence, she ordered the same.

“You’re fidgety.”

Dana let out a breath, trying to rid herself of all residual pent up energy. “Sorry.”

“I don’t want you to be nervous. Are you nervous?”

“No,” she said almost petulantly. “I’m a little… apprehensive,” she admitted.

“That’s the same thing Dana Scully. I hope you don’t think I have ill intentions.” Her tone leaned towards teasing and light, but Dana could tell she was being sincere.

“Just Dana,” she retorted playfully. “And I don’t think you have bad intentions… I don’t do this often.”

“Go out with friends?”

“Are we friends?”

“We could be, if you like.”

“Do you want to be friends?”

Stella laughed then, and again the sound relaxed something pulled taut within her, as it did their last encounter.

“Tell me, do you always answer questions with questions Dana? Of course I want to be your friend, I wouldn’t have asked you with me otherwise.” Dana smiled brightly and watched as Stella leaned forward, resting her pointed chin on folded hands. She had her full attention.

“Yes, I think I would like to be your friend,” she clarified. As if she would want this scenario to play out any other way. Ha.

“Good.”

Their food arrived and they ate in comfortable silence. Dana had to admit that Stella had good taste, though it was a wonder how she stayed so small if this was a part of her regular diet. She’d never be able to pull that off.

“What are you doing working where you are? I meant it when I said you looked miserable,” Stella asked, more commanded, around her last bite of muffin.

“Biding my time.” Stella’s neat brows raised as if to say, _go on_. She wasn’t used to this, not even her “friends” were interested in what she had to say. She was the listener, not the speaker.

“I’m uh- I’m going to be a doctor, one day. I want to be,” She was self-conscious of this fact still. It’s what she wanted more than anything, but saying it out loud always got bad reception.

She was relieved when her companion's eyes lit up in interest. “No kidding? That’s fantastic!”

It was easy to speak after that. It was so easy. She had always been shy, always preferred to stay back, to blend in despite her grandiose dreams that demanded the opposite of her. But with Stella the conversation flowed steadily. She was received well and understood. God, to have her ideas understood. It was beyond refreshing.

She spoke about her past and the school like it was something she did everyday, and not something kept guarded closely by her heart. She told Stella about Ahab; her father.

Stella confided in her about her divorce, and that surprised her because Stella seemed just as, if not more, under lock and key than she.

When they parted outside of the cafe with plans to spend the day after Christmas together, Dana was 30 minutes late and she didn’t give a damn. She hummed to herself all the way back to work, and despite the near freezing temperatures, she felt herself thawing.

***************************************

That night, Dana fell into a dream.

They were sitting on the edge of her ratty old bed, knee to knee, thigh touching thigh, fingers laced. Her apartment wasn’t drafty or cold for once, and for a while they just sat like that, peering into each other, not saying a word. Not needing to.

A free hand reached out and cupped her cheek tenderly, thumb rubbing over her cheekbone back and forth, a shiver down her spine.

A warmth swimming through her veins, the smooth movement of that thumb. The look latching onto her, drugging her into submission. A fire that pooled low in her abdomen with every gentle swipe.

Her heartbeat accelerating when that thumb ventured to graze across her lower lip, the nail scraping there just so, sending another shudder through her.

She wanted more. She _needed_ it.

Leaning in, mouth open. Breaths mixing. _Kiss me. Please._

Lips meeting. Universes colliding. They would make their own heaven this way. Tongues brushing. She was flying. She was a star, something otherworldly. People didn’t get to feel this good.

When the kiss was broken she whined, mourning. When the molten wet-heat reconnected at her pulse-point a second later, urgent, she whimpered.

This was going to happen. They were going to make love. She was going-

Her alarm blared and she sat up gasping for air, in shock. In horror. Her attention was drawn to the sticky feeling between her legs, solidifying the reality of what happened.

A dream. An intimate, pleasurable dream. One sexual in nature. Except- This dream didn’t feature Daniel Waterston, her boyfriend; her _lover_.

This featured the full lips and inquisitive eyes of Stella. Gibson, not Burns, she learned. Not that this made any difference.

Because Dana Scully was sick. _Oh god_ , she was sick.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! :D 
> 
> The next chapter is going to be focused on Stella, which I'm excited to write because I love her lol. Should be up within a week or two but things have been hectic.
> 
> Oh, "fun" fact! The APA (American Psychiatric Association) didn't remove homosexuality from their list of mental illnesses until 1973. Obviously things aren't perfect today but it sure is nicer to be LGBT now than back then.
> 
> *EDIT* idk if anyone cares but this has got to be put on hold as I'm going through a pretty big life change and don't have good internet access rn. I'm not abandoning it though.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading my trash baby! :D


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